Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)

Might have been the tattoo.

 

It was most definitely his sea-green eyes. The ones that slid down the length of my filthy body until they settled on the paper bag that barely covered my coochie.

 

“Thought you’d run off for good, Isabelle. You seem to have a knack for that,” he added.

 

“Sorry, Jericho. I almost didn’t recognize you with your dick in your pants. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get home.”

 

I tried to flounce off, but walking in short steps with a paper sack around my hips wasn’t a graceful way to make an exit.

 

He rolled the truck beside me and the engine rumbled, but he didn’t say a word.

 

So I walked a little faster.

 

He drove a little faster.

 

Finally, I broke into a run. Jericho hit the gas and kept up with me.

 

“Get in the goddamn truck, Isabelle.”

 

“No.”

 

“You’re a female wolf running naked in the street. Get in.”

 

“I’m not naked,” I panted. “I’m wearing recyclables.”

 

Which suddenly ripped. I stopped and waved my hand behind me, feeling a cool breeze against my cheeks. I twisted the bag where it had torn and held it tightly to my hip.

 

“Why bother? It’s not like I haven’t seen a naked woman before,” he said. “In fact, I’ve seen a whole lot of women.”

 

“Jericho, you smug, arrogant—”

 

“Horny,” he added with a bored wink.

 

“I hate you.”

 

“You still want to fuck me.”

 

Exclamation points were appearing over my head. “Don’t flatter yourself. I may wear recyclables, but I don’t want to have sex with any.”

 

He flinched. “Maybe no one will care if you’re half-naked since we’re on the Breed side of town, but I’m guessing it’s a long walk home.”

 

I stared at my bare legs. Yep, this would certainly get me arrested by the human police. Shifters didn’t care about nudity so much. It was a little silly to be rehashing past drama like a couple of children on a street corner when I only had a veil of paper covering my feminine mystique.

 

“Fine,” I conceded in a miserable voice, walking toward the door. “But you’re not allowed to say a word to me. All I want is a lift.”

 

“Is that so?” he said in an annoyed voice, his left wrist draped over the steering wheel. He licked his lips and I tried not to notice, but the way his tongue swiped across them should have been against the law. “And why not?”

 

“Because…”

 

Because oh my God, after all these years, I still felt something for him. My traitorous heart leapt against my chest, despite the fact it still carried a scar. All those old feelings rushed back and there we were again, except there we weren’t. We were two different people, and I didn’t know who had changed for the better and who for the worse.

 

“Finish what you were going to say.”

 

I leaned in the window. “Because you were an insensitive friend,” I said in a somber tone.

 

The doors locked and Jericho sat back in his seat, revving the engine.

 

“Wait a minute, are you going to leave me here?” I exclaimed.

 

“You got it, Sexybelle.”

 

When he sped off, I chased after him. “You can’t leave me here!”

 

He left me there.

 

On the side of the road at dawn, wearing dirt and a torn paper sack. I finally felt like the trash Jericho had thrown away all those years ago.

 

“Hey, sweetie! Want me to help carry your groceries?” a man razzed from his truck window.

 

I gave him the finger and stormed across the street as he laughed and turned the corner.

 

 

***

 

I gasped for air and sprang to my knees. “Don’t do that!” I shouted, feeling the residual sting on my rear from being slapped. My fingers gripped the sheets on our bed, and I blew out a hard breath.

 

“Miss me, Iz?”

 

I tore the covers away, a sheen of sweat covering my chest and the room feeling uncomfortably stuffy from the afternoon sunshine pouring through the windows. “Hawk? Where have you been? I tried calling you.”

 

“Pack your bags.”

 

“Huh?”

 

He yanked a suitcase out of the closet and stuffed it with his boxer shorts and dress shirts. “We’re moving.”

 

“Moving where? Wait a second. What’s going on? Some psycho has been following me around looking for you.”

 

“Yeah, that’s why we’re moving. What’s with all the dirt on the kitchen floor and ripped-up paper?”

 

I swung my legs over the bed and slipped on a T-shirt. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Not unless you tell me you’ve fixed whatever you messed up. I’ve always accepted you for who you are and haven’t interfered in your business affairs, but I’m not about to get mixed up with someone who has lunatic humans chasing after him. This isn’t the life I want.”